


Off Ice

by DJBunn3



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Seasons, inspired by a dead bird my friend found the other day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJBunn3/pseuds/DJBunn3
Summary: On ice, Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri are fierce competitors-- always neck in neck, keeping the audience on their feet. They skate for all that they’re worth, not holding back at all. If anything, their close relationship makes them push themselves harder, and for that they’re all the better.Off ice, Viktor forgets to pick up his dirty socks and Yuuri lets Makkachin chew holes in the toes before he throws them into the washing machine.





	

On ice, Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri are fierce competitors-- always neck in neck, keeping the audience on their feet. They skate for all that they’re worth, not holding back at all, and there’s an electrifying edge to their rivalry that just makes them all the more fascinating to watch. If anything, their close relationship makes them push themselves harder, and for that they’re all the better.

Off ice, Viktor forgets to pick up his dirty socks and Yuuri lets Makkachin chew holes in the toes before he throws them into the washing machine.

Domesticity is a good look on them. Especially now that they’re living and training together permanently, instead of constantly moving around from hotel to hotel, competition to competition. They’re still working hard, obviously, but as Viktor points out every so often, it’s good to take a break once in awhile. And Yuuri, remembering how sad Viktor had seemed when he’d talked about his last few years as a skater, agrees wholeheartedly.

* * *

 

One day, in the heart of an exceptionally cold winter, Yuuri finds a dead baby bird out on their doorstep. Its tiny wings are frozen stiff and there’s snow covering its greenish gray body.

He’s stooping down to inspect it further when a chocolate brown blur rockets past him, and then Makkachin’s nosing the bird’s cold body with the saddest expression on his face.

“Makka, leave it alone,” Yuuri chastises, then yelps as his dog scoops the bird into his mouth, carrying it gently into the house. Following Makkachin through the house, unsure of what to do, Yuuri looks around for his coach. If Makkachin has had a history of collecting dead animals, this is the first he’s hearing of it.

Viktor rounds the corner, frowning when he sees the small, wet bunch of feathers in Makkachin’s mouth. “What is _that_?” he asks, bending down to look the dog in the face. He looks up at his owner with the same sad eyes he’d used on Yuuri, like his little dog heart is breaking, then moves past to the back door.

Yuuri explains sadly about the dead bird on the porch, rubbing at his nose. It stings from the cold, even though he’d only been outside for a minute.

Viktor looks pained for a second, and Yuuri remembers how sensitive his boyfriend can be. He really is an animal lover, probably more so than he is a social butterfly. Absently, he wanders out to the back porch, and Yuuri follows curiously.

Makkachin is digging in a corner of the yard. His mouth hangs open slightly, and Yuuri realizes that he’s doing his best not to damage the body.

Viktor takes the steps down to the grassy yard, bending down next to Makkachin to watch. He looks sad and resigned, but he watches unwaveringly as his beloved dog keeps digging.

Yuri joins him, crouching down in the dirt and waiting silently until the hole is big enough for Makkachin’s satisfaction. He sticks his head inside and gently lays the bird’s small corpse down to rest, licks its wings over once and then twice. Finally, he pushes at the pile of dirt next to him, and Viktor helps refill the hole.

Makkachin looks so sad for the rest of the day, and Viktor does too. They’re both quieter, less excited, and Yuuri spends most of the day curled up on the couch with both of them at his side.

Yuuri knows that Viktor’s thinking about Makkachin; about how old he is and how he might need to be buried as well someday soon. And, well, there’s nothing he can do right now, but he promises himself that he’ll stand by Viktor for as long as is needed when that day comes.

* * *

 

They spend the entirety of one weekend cleaning, and as boring as it might sound, they find themselves enjoying it. Viktor tackles the kitchen, the living room and the closets while Yuuri takes on the bathrooms, the bedroom and the little secluded area that serves as their dining room.

Viktor hums while he works, and it’s oddly comforting. Yuuri’s never heard him sing before, and he finds that he quite likes the gentle tunes. He scrubs at the windows in their dining room with warm water while Viktor works at the kitchen floor.

They end up trapped in the bay window seat of the secluded room, waiting for the floor to dry because they’re both very bad at planning. Spring sunlight warms their backs through the glass as they recount funny stories. Yuuri tells Viktor about Phichit and his hamsters, his attempt at giving Yuuri “selfie taking lessons” which ended horribly, and his habit of sleep talking.

Viktor responds with an elaborate tale about Chris’s attempts at bringing him to clubs, and several stories from previous Grand Prix Finals that Yuuri’s especially interested in. He even throws in a heavily fictionalized version of Yurio’s introduction to himself and Mila involving sriracha sauce and a very concerned taxi driver.

The warm spring air has dried the floor enough for them to leave the window, but neither of them feels any particular need to. They’re content here, in each others’ company, and there’s a peaceful atmosphere about them that neither wants to disturb.

For another hour or so, Yuuri listens to Viktor’s stories and throws in a few of his own, and then Makkachin bounds in, ready for his walk. Viktor grabs the leash and collar, and Yuuri dumps their buckets of water in the sink before jamming on his shoes and pulling his jacket on.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Viktor says, walking calmly behind an excited brown dog. Yuuri almost tears up-- something’s got him really emotional today.

“Me too,” he replies. “I’m glad I’m with you.”

* * *

 

Viktor decides that they should go somewhere over the summer, and Yuuri, seeing his excited face, can’t bring himself to say no. So they plan a trip back to Japan to stay with Yuuri’s family.

It’s not much different than it had been before, maybe a little busier. Minako greets them at the airport, and guides them back to Hasetsu’s onsen, where they’re greeted happily by Yuuri’s parents and sister. They share Yuuri’s old room, which has mostly been redecorated into another guest room, but Mari pulls out his old poster collection set and tapes them up before the night.

(At that, Viktor proceeds to tease Yuuri relentlessly until he threatens to kick Viktor out. That shuts him up well enough.)

Before bed on their first night, Yuuri’s parents convince them to spend a little time in the onsen. Viktor agrees excitedly, and Yuuri’s dragged along as usual. He follows his boyfriend into the steaming hot water, easing himself in a few inches at a time. Viktor, much more eager, has already settled himself in, arms resting against the artificial stone walls that surround the area.

“It’s nice here,” he says simply. “I’ve missed it.”

Yuuri can’t help but smile at that, a warm feeling growing in his chest. He might have a new home now, one that’s extremely important to him, but Hasetsu will always remind him of his first encounters with Viktor.

Carefully, he sinks down in the water beside Viktor, absently rubbing his ring finger. It feels foreign and light without the ring, which he’d left in their room.

He relaxes in the warmth of the onsen and lets his mind wander.

Viktor moves closer, so that their sides are pressing together, and says something under his breath that Yuuri doesn’t quite catch.

It sounds a lot like home.

* * *

 

One day, when Viktor’s home alone, he stumbles across a box he’s never seen before. It’s made of cheap, light colored wood, and it feels almost empty when he picks it up.

 _It must be Yuuri’s,_ he thinks. Not wanting to pry, he sets it back in its place and leaves the room.

A minute later, he returns.

There’s something drawing him to look inside, possibly just the mystery of its existence. Yuuri isn’t really a materialistic guy-- he doesn’t keep knick-knacks and treasures the same way Viktor does. He’s a minimalist, sentimental, and sort of secretive, so no wonder the box has Viktor’s attention.

Feeling a bit guilty, he steels himself before opening the lid. And… whatever he had been expecting, this wasn’t it.

Inside the box are countless paper scraps, each about the length of his finger. Many of them are plain white, but there are also black pieces scattered inside, and they’re all covered in a thin layer of dust.

He carefully picks one of the white scraps up, surprised to see Yuuri’s scribbled handwriting on the other side. The word _katsudon_ is written in the center of the paper, and nothing else. His interest piqued, Viktor sets the scrap down next to the box and grabs another one. This time, the word is _Vicchan,_ Yuuri’s old dog’s name.

Viktor loses track of time, reading each slip of paper one after another. The black papers are curiously blank, but each white slip has a word or a sentence on it.

_New ice skates._

_Phichit’s selfie._

_Grades._

“Viktor?”

Viktor looks up, startled at the sound of Yuuri’s voice. Makkachin stands beside him, having just come back from a walk. He’s got golden orange leaves tangled in his fur, and Yuuri has one in his hair as well.

“What are these?” he asks, gesturing to the box. Yuuri’s cheeks tint pink, and he kneels down beside him, sifting through the remaining papers.

“It’s just something I used to do, before I met you,” he explains vaguely. “All the white papers are things that made me happy.”

“Oh.” That makes sense. Most of the things on the papers do seem to fit Yuuri’s tastes. “Then the black papers are…”

Yuuri scratches Makkachin’s head absently. “I put them in when something really bad happened, like Vicchan passing, or my first Grand Prix.”

“But they’re blank.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I don’t want to remember the events. Just that something bad _did_ happen.”

“Oh,” Viktor says again. “I think I get it.”

“Every so often I’d take them all out and count the white and the black, and I’d save the numbers to compare. But I haven’t done anything with it in a while.”

“Is this good?” Viktor asks, looking down at the scraps, then back up. Yuuri nods, smiling a little.

“There used to be a lot more black scraps, the time before this one. But now there are a lot of white ones.”

Almost subconsciously, Viktor reaches down to count the black scraps with his finger. “There are eighteen,” he says.

“There are at least forty white ones, though.”

Together, they start sorting the papers into black and white piles, and Viktor reads them over as they go. Some of them are short, with only one word on them, while others require more than one sentence.

“I didn’t want to repeat the same things over and over,” Yuuri continues, like he’s reading Viktor’s mind, “so sometimes I’d have to get really specific.”

“Really?” Viktor picks up another scrap, turning it over so the handwriting faces up. He blinks once in surprise.

 _Viktor_ is written carefully in the center of the page.

“I thought you hadn’t used this in a while.”

Yuuri glances down at the paper, then blushes profusely. “I haven’t,” he says. “You’ve just made me happy for a really long time, Viktor.”

“O-Oh.” Viktor drops the slip into the white paper pile, then picks up another. _Stay Close to Me._

“There are a lot of them like that,” Yuuri says, holding up another one. “I never thanked you for it, but you made my life so much better. I’m so glad I met you--”

He never gets to finish. Viktor tackles him to the ground, crushing him in a tight hug. Yuuri gasps, surprised, but he wraps his arms around Viktor as well.

“I’m so happy,” Viktor whispers. “You make me so happy, Yuuri. I should be the one thanking you.”

There are fifty seven white papers and nineteen black ones. Yuuri commits those numbers to memory as Viktor writes his name in the center of a blank slip of paper, and sets it inside the box.

**Author's Note:**

> My submission for YOIWeek 2017! I didn't find out about it in time to write for the other prompts, but I'll be participating in Victuuri Week and Otayuri Week soon, both of which are in February.  
> Also, my friend found a dead bird outside our school earlier this week, so I included it in here because she really likes Yuri!!! on Ice.  
> [My Tumblr.](https://djbunn3.tumblr.com)


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